


Mad Scientists And Malevolent Air Conditioners

by BenevolentErrancy



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Gen, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 05:44:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12029391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenevolentErrancy/pseuds/BenevolentErrancy
Summary: The opportunity to study at Goddard University is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and not one that Renée Minkowski intends to let pass her by... but to do that, she's going to need to find a place to live for the year, and people to live with. And for one reason or another, the only likely looking prospect is a death-trap-of-a-house located on Hephaestus Street - to say it's strange doesn't begin to cover it, nor does it begin to cover the other tenants looking to rent there.Plus, horror movie clichés, weird house gremlins, the risk of electrical fires, and extenuating circumstances.





	Mad Scientists And Malevolent Air Conditioners

**Author's Note:**

> well. I'm still catching up on the show and just listened to Desperate Measures. This is the desperate measures I'm driven to because of it. aka: A GOSHDARN HAPPY AU OKAY

Someone up there hated Isabel Lovelace, of that she was certain. There was no other reasonable explanation for the situation she had currently found herself in. She had spent the past several years sharing a house with six other students who, like her, were all attending Goddard University, and it had been... well, it had been _hell_ , but hell with broadly good people. With _friends_. Yes, even that stick in the mud Lambert who could hardly ever be found without his nose in a textbook, never mind participating in the house's bimonthly Games Night.

(Although, after that time a game of Funzo had lasted the entire weekend during finals week there might be a reason for that, but still, no excuse.)

And now, she was alone. Had been for the past three months as the summer semester stretched on; the university town always seemed too empty during the summer, and without any classes of her own the three months had felt more like three _years_ as she drifted from her shitty summer job (in an auto repair shop) to her even shittier, even emptier house which didn't even have a functional air conditioning unit.

Well, not entirely empty, not any more at least.

“You know the fall semester doesn't even start for another two weeks, you don't need to _be_ here yet,” she said to the man who had currently commandeered the entirety of the kitchen table with textbooks and sheets and a laptop balanced precariously on top of it all. Lovelace sometimes wondered whether or not he always remembered that gravity was a thing – though she had never actually seen him knock any of his precarious stacks over, so maybe that was a perk of actually taking physics classes. “What could you even possibly have to work on?”

Alexander Hilbert didn't even bothering looking up from his work. “Personal project,” he said simply. “And it was you who said house would be open and ready by this week, not me. Simply complying.”

 _Yeah but I didn't open it up for you_ , sat on the tip of Lovelace's tongue but she bit it back, and settled for scowling at Hilbert's bent head. Even though in all her experience very little could actually get under Hilbert's skin, she _did_ still need him for rent. For now. Until she had found people to fill all the remaining spots that had been vacated by the old crew.

Not that she felt _abandoned_ or anything, in this big, stupid, old, falling-to-pieces house with five renter spots to fill, no, not at all. Either way, _that_ was the reason she had actually made the house “open” rather than wait out in her own self-isolation for classes to start again: without her friends there to help her pay the rent, she was, concisely put, _screwed_. She was still stuck in the weird, shitty lease she'd gotten roped into back when she'd been a naive first-year university student, out on her own for the first time. She'd kept paying into it year after year because, well... it had been bearable at the time and she had liked her roommates and how close to the university she was. Since it had become clear that all of her former crew would be moving out after graduation to pursue work and graduate studies she had begun looking for loopholes to get out of the damn thing, but she was trapped like a rat. And that meant pretty soon she would need to either find new roommates to help her pay for the place or... no, actually she didn't want to know what her insane landlord would do if she didn't pay up. What it came down to was that there was no putting it off anymore, which meant needing to have the house available for people to a) check out in person, and b) to hopefully, foolishly, agree to move into. Making the house available had been for them, _not_ for Hilbert to come slithering his slimy way back in any earlier than necessary.

“Whatever,” she said brusquely, not wanting to waste anymore time over this. “Just... clear off for a bit, will you? Your lair is all aired out so go... work in there or something.”

“I have missed your charms, Lovelace. And by lair I can only assume you mean to say my _bedroom_?”

“Yeah, no, when the science whatevers officially take up more space than the rest of the room combined, it becomes a lair. Or a lab. Or _something_. Look, I just don't want these poor saps getting scared off by you being.... you. So clear off for a bit, and don't look at any of them like you want to dissect them until I've actually gotten the money out of them.”

“As you say.”

He didn't actually make any sign of movement, but Lovelace chose to take it as an affirmative, and marched off to pace in the living room.

-

Renée Minkowski looked back down at her phone, twisting it around, trying to get a better sense of where she was in relation to the little map she had open. She knew in theory the house she was looing for was supposed to be quite close to the university – the bus system even had a shuttle route straight to the university from a stop only a few minute walk from here – but this neighbourhood had so many twining, looping little streets that she swore it felt like she'd somehow disappeared from the heart of the town and ended up in the middle of nowhere. It didn't help that it was a miserably hot August day and she had a heavy backpack on because she hadn't wanted to leave her laptop alone in the questionable hotel room she'd been staying in. She was tired, sweaty, stressed, and to cap it all she was getting absolutely _terrible_ cell reception out here for some reason, so she couldn't even call her boyfriend for moral (or tactical) support. Just great. And the open house was supposed to start any minute.

She was so engrossed in trying to read her map, that she hadn't even noticed the two people who had had been standing around arguing on the street corner across from her. Nor had she noticed when one of the pair had looked up, said something to his companion while pointing at her, and had then marched across the street towards her. She hadn't noticed, at least, until a hand had grabbed her shoulder out of nowhere.

(And no matter how the story is told in the future, just for the record, she absolutely did _not_ shriek. She didn't. She was just... a little startled.)

“Whoa, hey, sorry, didn't mean to scare you!”

“ _I wasn't scared_.”

“Alright, sure, whatever you say,” the man said, hands up in a pacifying gesture.

Calming her startled heart, Minkowski took stock of the situation. The man really didn't seem particularly threatening... about the farthest thing from threatening, truth be told. Minkowski had a feeling she could snap him in half with one hand, if it came to that... and going by the way he quailed under her glare, she doubted it would. Beyond him, she could see a woman – the woman he'd been arguing with – crossing the street to catch up with them.

“Hey, look me and my friend have just been having an argument about this, and I just wanted to ask, do you, by any chance, have _any_ idea where... what's it called? Heffalump Street is?”

Minkowski blinked. “What?”

“ _Hephaestus_ S-Street,” supplied the woman as she caught up with her companion. She sounded like this was a correction she had been making for a while now.

“That's what I said! Do you know where Hephaestus Street is? We're kinda lost.”

“N-no,” said the woman, before Minkowski could respond, “ _you're_ lost. I k-keep telling you, I know exactly where we are and we need to go _that_ way.”

“Sure, sure, I get it, you have like an innate GPS in your head or something, but I'm just saying you've been saying that for the past half an hour and we're _still lost,_ ” said the man with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Excuse me if I don't want things to go full Deliverance on us because _someone_ would rather get lost and hunted by locals rather than ask for directions.”

While this exchange played out, Minkowski took the opportunity to stare down the street the woman had pointed at, then look back down at her map, reorient herself and – actually yes, _that made sense..._

“Look,” said the man, “I'm just saying maybe she knows, maybe she doesn't, but when has it ever hurt to resist a good, entrenched horror movie cliché?”

“As it happens,” said Minkowski, “I'm heading there too. For the open house, right? And yeah, it, uh... I think it's down that street too. That's the direction I was heading in at least,” she said, with more confidence than was probably strictly deserved. Or deserved at all. But hey, sometimes you just had to act like you had command of a situation and hope everything else fell in place.

“Hey, yeah!” said the man, “House... 593 or whatever, right? Awesome, we might be _roomies!_ ”

“Uhh, yeah, I guess, maybe...” said Minkowski, feeling the slightest bit guilty – her first thought upon realizing they were also heading to the open house had been _competition_. But they had, however indirectly, just given her the directions she needed to find the darn place, so she smothered any instinctive feelings of rivalry and began heading towards the street the woman had pointed out – and yes, she could see the street name now, Hermes. And Hephaestus Street was supposed to be just off that one, right...?

“In that case, we should probably make p-proper introductions,” said the woman. “I'm Hera. This is Doug.”

“Her BFF,” crowed the man called Doug.

“Oh, well. Hello,” said Minkowski, feeling rather out of her depths and as awkward as possible. She was never good at introductions – or, well, first impressions at all if she was being brutally honest. She always felt too stiff, or like she was doing something wrong (for example: immediately planning to fight them for available living space). Searching for _something_ to respond with, she stuck her hand out to shake. Hera took it pleasantly enough, as did Doug though he seemed rather amused by it. “I'm Minkowski,” she told them.

“Huh,” said Doug, “Min...cowskey? Am I saying that right? Weird name.” Hera elbowed him. “ _What?_ It is! When was the last time _you_ ever heard a name like that? Huh? Well?”

“It's pronounced Min _kow_ ski, and actually it's my last name, not my first name.”

“ _Whoa_ , what, seriously? Hear that, Hera? I didn't realize I'd just stumbled into Edwardian London, what is this, Downton Abbey or something? Pardon me, _Lady Crawley_ , I didn't mean to offend! If I had only known we were only on a _last name basis_ I would never have dared suppose–”

Minkowski floundered, unsure how to react to this bizarre, loud man, and mostly resolved this uncertainty by getting annoyed. That was generally a safe response. “I didn't mean it like that, I just–”

“No no, it's _totally_ fine. In that case, _you_ can call me Eiffel – as in Eiffel Tower? Beautiful monument that the world is blessed to see striking a noble pose against the skyline?”

“D-Doug...” Hera started to say but he shoved a finger in front of her lips.

“ _Sh-sh-sh!_ It's _Eiffel_ now.”

Minkowski gave up. “Fine, whatever, I don't have time for this. I want to be in time for the open house so I can actually get a look at this place and put an offer down.” According to the web listing there were a number of rooms being offered, but if the place was good, she wanted to get a decent one before they were all scooped up.

She started to march off down the street, and to her exasperation, Doug – or _Eiffel_ , apparently – started trotting after her to keep up. At least his friend seemed mostly sane.

Eiffel though didn't seem to have an off button. Or a mute. He immediately started to chatter as they made their way down the street. “Yeah, this person seemed pretty gung-ho about us being on time for her open house thing, didn't she? What do you even call someone like this, she's not really the landlord, is she? 'Cause she's renting too, she's just sort of like... the boss renter? The prime tenant? The... captain?”

“We're trying to rent a h-house, not a pirate ship,” said Hera.

Eiffel just kept going. “I was thinking more space ship than pirate ship personally, you know, cause I started thinking Prime Directive and then Captain and... and you know what, never mind, not important. Though if there is a place to rent space ships, hook me up, I feel like I'd be super down to just chill in outer space for a bit if it meant getting out of classes. Anyways, back to the topic at hand, did you notice those pictures of the place online?”

“They seemed very... n-nice,” said Hera, rather dryly.

This time Minkowski was on exactly the same page as them, it was why she was so keen on seeing the house in person before committing to an offer. “Yes, they definitely were... nice. Very... carefully chosen angles.”

“S-some might even suggest 'staged',” said Hera.

Minkowski sighed. “Still, it's getting close to the start of the semester and it's near the school and this Lovelace person _is_ asking a very reasonable price...” Too reasonable, there _had_ to be _something_ wrong. What it was, Minkowski didn't know, but there would be something, there always was. “I don't know about you, but as long as there's no weird sex dungeon or anything I don't know how many other options there are at this point.”

“Hey, I for one am _totally_ fine with sex dungeons,” said Eiffel, “so long as it's not some sort of awful, spider-infested death-trap. We found one place like that, right Hera? The basement suite on whatever-it-was street?”

“With the c-cockroaches? Yes, I remember. It was... n-not ideal.”

“Never mind _them_ , did you _see_ the size the cobwebs? _Guh_. I still feel like some sort of giant evil Ungoliant spawn is crawling in my hair.”

Hera didn't even glance at her friend. “Oh. Well, that's g-good, I hadn't wanted to bring it up, but if you already know...”

Minkowski had assumed it was just gentle teasing between friends – she certainly felt completely lost listening to the two of them, they had such an easy rapport with each other – so she was taken aback when Eiffel suddenly stopped dead and began beating at his hair in a frenzied way, each swat punctuated with a sound of disgust and horror.

“He's f-fine,” Hera assured her as she continued to stroll down the street, unbothered by her friend. “He just _r-really_ doesn't like spiders.”

“I got that much...”

“ _Mean_ ,” Eiffel shouted after her. “You know I'm gonna feel them for _ages_ now...”

This was more or less how the rest of the (seemingly endless) walk down Hermes Street and onto Hephaestus seemed to go. Minkowski found herself having miserable visions of what life might look like if both her _and_ this man ended up getting rooms in this house, and briefly considered how morally wrong it would be to try to get him lost again. Before she could really consider acting on her plan though, the house loomed before them.

“Well it d-does look... spacious,” said Hera carefully.

“If by spacious you mean a shit-hole, then yeah,” said Eiffel.

“More or less, yeah,” Hera agreed.

So did Minkowski, more or less. The house _was_ big, the ad had not been lying about that. It was one of those old, turn-of-the-century sort of homes that was probably built before electricity was a thing and had more weird, small, poky rooms than should rightly be able to fit between its walls. In some ways this was good, it meant lots of bedrooms and being able to find a quiet space away from the random people you had to share a house with. On the other hand, “shit-hole” was not an inaccurate description either. It looked like it had seen better days. She supposed that it didn't really surprise her though, it must be hard to keep such a big, old house in pristine condition, so she grit her teeth, strengthened her resolved, and marched up the steps to the knock on the door. After all, getting to study at Goddard University was a once-in-a-lifetime sort of opportunity, one she'd gotten into by the skin of her teeth when all of a sudden, at the very end of the summer, her wait-list status had changed. She wouldn't be able to appreciate that though if she was living under an overpass because she hadn't been able to find a place to rent before classes started. She would _not_ miss out on this.

Her eyes strayed past the saggy front porch and peeling paint to land on the house numbers – the 9 at the end had come partially unscrewed and made it look like the house was number 356. If the tenant they were speaking to was a student like she claimed, then she probably just didn't have time for a lot of excess yard work, right? _Yeah, let's go with that_... She knocked.

The door opened almost immediately, and Minkowski found herself standing even straighter than she had been before – there was something rather intimidating about the woman standing in the doorway, and it wasn't just the fact that she would be the one deciding if Minkowski had a place to live after today. It was something about the way she seemed to be sizing them up... Minkowski could also _feel_ Eiffel leaning around from behind her to peer at the woman, like he wanted to keep someone in between himself and her, and Minkowski was apparently that person.

“She looks like a piece of work,” she heard Eiffel mutter under his breath to Hera. “Don't wanna be late with rent with her, I'm thinking.”

The woman either didn't hear him or was ignoring him. Instead she said, in a flat, unimpressed voice, “Wow, all three of you are here. I mean, you're all _late_ but you're also all here. That's... promising.”

“You must be Ms Lovelace, right?” said Minkowski, rather desperately, offering a hand. Thinking about Eiffel's smirking face from earlier, she almost withdrew it but the woman reached out and reciprocated with a knuckle-grinding handshake.

“Sure. And just Lovelace is fine. And you're... Minkowski?”

Minkowski smiled, somewhat relieved. “That's right. It's a pleasure to come see your... lovely house.”

“ _Right_...” Lovelace's eyes flickered over Minkowski's shoulder. “And I assume the giggly one in the back is the one who signed his email 'Douggie Boy'?”

There was the sound of Eiffel being elbowed by Hera again, punctuated with his scandalized _ow!_ Minkowski closed her eyes in mild horror – she didn't even _know_ this man, but coming up to the door with him made her feel hopelessly associated; she could only pray she wasn't judged off whatever dumb shit he pulled.

“Well excuse me for being friendly,” Eiffel muttered. “And yeah, I'm Doug Eiffel. And this is Hera.”

“Well. Welcome then, I guess,” said Lovelace, holding out the door and stepping back. “Let me show you around...”

Minkowski had been right about this being the sort of place with way too many small rooms – she stuck close to Lovelace as she power marched them through the place, mildly concerned that she might never find her way out again otherwise. The house wasn't _that_ big, surely, but for some reason she already felt turned arond.

“Don't worry,” Eiffel whispered, “if it goes all Amityville Horror on us we can book it outta here, Hera's got an _insane_ memory.”

“I already have the house layout more or less mapped,” Herea offered cheerfully.

“Uhh, _good_ ,” said Minkowski carefully. “I'm just gonna... assume that's not gonna happen.”

Eiffel shrugged. “You're loss, don't come crying for me when some crazed demon jumps out of a locked up broom cupboard and tries to eat your face.”

“Do you actually have any contact with reality? Like at all?”

“Debatable,” said Hera, to Eiffel's noises of outrage.

They continued along Lovelace's tour, but the more they wandered around (to half-stories and little rooms with too many doors leading off and hallways that, despite the way she scoffed at Eiffel, did look like they belonged in a horror movie) the more Minkowski realized exactly how much the interior of the house matched its exterior. It was, in the nicest possible terms, old. The plumbing looked sketchy, the windows, when Eiffel had tried to open one to get a better look at the backyard, stuck and fought back (“What is this place, air-tight?” Eiffel grumbled), and the heating system groaned in the walls. Eerie was one way to put it; an accident waiting to happen was another. And it was also pretty obvious that Lovelace wasn't showing them everything – just like the pictures on the website, it was clear she was trying to present this old place in the best possible light she could, only in person – especially with someone as nosy as Eiffel, as intuitive as Hera, and as damn persistent as Minkowski – it was a lot harder than online.

By the time they'd made it back down the stairs to the main landing, they were all sticky with the heat and Minkowski was feeling very disheartened. For all her wariness, she'd had high hopes for this place but she wasn't sure she could imagine trying to live in here for a whole year – or longer, if she couldn't find a better place once the lease was up and she had to renew.

(But, her mind reminded her, how many other decent places had she found? Or places with such decently sized bedrooms? Or places this close to the university? Or places with this good of a price?)

“What's in there?” asked Eiffel, approaching one door at the end of the hall.

Lovelace, as casually as you could while being suspicious as fuck, stepped between him and it. “Oh, that? Just the kitchen. Nothing interesting in there. At least there _had better not be_ ,” she added, strangely, with a growl towards the door.

There was a long, pregnant silence. Minkowski didn't know what she was waiting for, but whatever it was Eiffel was clearly waiting for it too, and it also didn't come. Only silence.

“I w-wouldn't mind seeing the kitchen,” said Hera. “It would be n-nice to know what sort of appliances are available and if they're in working order.”

“Yeah, right, sure, we'll get to that,” said Lovelace hurriedly. “But how about, first–”

“What about through here?” said Eiffel as he reached for another door, because apparently he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

Lovelace didn't stop him from opening that one, and it revealed a dark, yawning, black pit.

“That just leads to the basement. Nothing interesting down there. I wouldn't recommend going down though – if you thought the rest of the house was a maze you wouldn't believe what it's like down there.”

Eiffel hurriedly shut the door.

“You know,” commented Hera, “normally one would try to make a house sound, well... less haunted, when they're trying to rent it out. You're somewhat lacking on that front.”

“ _Very_ lacking on that front,” agreed Eiffel. “This place has like, _major_ haunted vibes.”

“It's not _haunted_ ,” said Lovelace. She cast Minkowski a beseeching look, as if she could talk sense to these people; Minkowski just shrugged. It did sound a little haunted, if you believed in that sort of thing. Of course, Minkowski didn't, but that didn't mean she wasn't thinking about rodent infestations or dry rot that might be hidden down there. “Look, why don't we just... step into the living room! Alright?”

This time it was Eiffel's turn to cast Minkowski a beseeching look. What was she supposed to do, punch these imaginary ghosts for him?

“Let's go,” Minkowski finally said, gesturing for them to follow Lovelace.

This room was just as stuffy and hot, but at least it looked more lived in than the rest of the house. There was a tv, an assortment of second-hand couches and chairs, a stack of textbooks piled on a side table, a forgotten coffee cup... the sort of stuff you expected to find in a student's house.

“What the heck!” shouted Eiffel. “Is that an air conditioner?”

“Um...?” Lovelace turned around, as if she herself wasn't certain, and spotted what Eiffel was pointing at with such offense. Sure enough, in one of the windows was an old, blocky, white air conditioning unit.

“It's like... meteorite-extinction-event levels hot in here and _you have an air conditioner sitting right there?_ Is this like a test? To weed out the weak? Is that why you haven't filled this place yet? Because you let all potential tenants wander around the fucking caverns of Mount Doom until they die and then bury them in the backyard?”

“What the heck?” said Lovelace, annoyance rising in her already strained voice. “No! I haven't _filled this place because it's old and shit and everything is falling apart and all my old roommates graduated!_ I don't think that thing–” She gestured aggressively at the air conditioner. “–has worked _once_ since my first year here, alright? That's why it's not turned on! That's why this place looks like it's some shit horror movie prop! _Okay?_ ”

Eiffel had taken several hurried steps back, which was fair, Lovelace was exactly a “calming” personality at the best of times but she looked ready to fight. Minkowski couldn't help but notice that he had once again put _her_ between him and Lovelace. Great.

Still, apparently even fear couldn't get him to shut his mouth because he muttered, “Oh man, you really know how to sell a place, don'tcha?”

Of course, he wasn't _wrong_ , but Minkowski still found herself mentally begging him to _just shut up already_.

“If you l-like, I could take a look at it,” piped up Hera, breaking the tense stand-off between the two.

Lovelace just stared at her. “When I say it hasn't worked in years I mean it. And I work in an auto garage, okay, I'm _plenty_ good with my hands. I didn't just forget to plug it in or something.”

“You may as well let her,” Eiffel told her. “Hera's all about engines and electricity and stuff, if anyone can make it boot up, it's her.”

Lovelace seemed to be having an internal battle. “Oh, alright, fine, _why not_. Why not risk a little electrical fire, it's not like it can make this house any _worse_ to live in!”

Grumbling, she stalked after Hera as she marched over the unit and began unceremoniously tugging it from the window.

That left Minkowski and Eiffel.

“Sooo,” she said, fishing for conversation starters. “Your... girlfriend...? She's studying electrical work?”

“First, she's not my girlfriend. Just a good friend. Like best friend. Me and Hera go _way_ back. And yeah... something like that?” At the disbelieving look Minkowski gave him, he added, rather defensively, “Look, it's all really complicated and there's like... computers involved? And like... structural engineering or something? Just, if it involves making weird systems functioning, it's right up her alley. She used to spend our summers as kids pulling apart her family's lawn mower, okay? She's like, hella smart and I don't really understand most of it. That's why she's off to Goddard, apparently they have a _great_ program for whatever it is she's doing. That's why we moved halfway across the country to come to this hot hellhole. Seriously, I feel like we're directly orbiting a goddamn sun in here.”

“Oh, that seems pretty... neat. I'm actually going to Goddard this fall as well,” Minkowski added, unable to keep the pride from her voice. “Um, if you don't mind me asking, why did you decide to move with her? I mean, if you were dating I'd get it, but what made _you_ decide to move across the country too?”

Eiffel stared blankly at her. “...To go to school...?”

“Oh! Oh, right, right, yeah, sorry, that makes sense.” There were a couple other smaller or private institutions around here, after all. “Which one are you going to? Is it a good commute from here?”

Eiffel kept staring. “.. _Goddard..._ ”

Minkowski gaped. “What. Really?”

“Jesus, yes, really!” said Eiffel throwing his hands in the air. “Is that _really_ that hard to believe?”

If a hole opened up right now and swallowed her, Minkowski would be okay with that. Then again, going by the state of the floorboards, that might not be impossible. She hadn't meant anything by it! He just really... didn't look... or sound... like the studious sort, okay, that was all.

Okay yeah it sounded a little judge-y.

“Nope! No, not hard to believe at all, nope! Uh... what are you studying?”

“Communications and journalism,” said Eiffel, rather moodily.

Just then, saving Minkowski from needing to stick her foot any farther into her mouth, there was a _clunk-clunk-clunk_ and a _whirrrrr_ as the air conditioning spluttered to life, it's initial gasps of life rattling through the entire house.

Hera stood, rubbing grease from her hands. “It's just a p-patch job, but that should keep it going for a l-little while at least.”

Minkowski was impressed. And that must have gone double for Lovelace, because she was now eyeing Hera like a goose that just stood up and laid a golden egg; Minkowski had a sneaky suspicion that Hera had just guaranteed rooms for herself and Eiffel.

Then there was the sound of something heavy being dropped in another room and the clump of feet which startled Minkowski, she hadn't realized anyone else had even been here. Eiffel literally jumped when one of the doors in the room sprung open, revealing a man who was staring at the room with naked shock on his face.

“Is that–” he started, and then his eyes locked on the humming air conditioner, and then on both Lovelace and Hera. The man seemed rather at a loss for words. He settled with, “ _How_.”

“Oh, well, you know,” said Hera, who seemed to be trying for modesty but was clearly reveling under the implicit praise, “it wasn't anything s-special or anything. It was pretty easy, once you get into it.”

“ _I_ have been trying to fix that thing for _years_ ,” the man said. Minkowski couldn't quite tell if he was impressed with Hera's work, or outraged that he hadn't fixed it first – or maybe both?

“Well, just goes to show you _can't_ do everything,” said Lovelace. “It must be a shock for you system. Why don't you just go sit down? Somewhere _away from here_.”

The man wasn't listening, he had marched across the room and was now facing down Hera. “ _You_ fixed this? Tell me, what did you do?”

“Um, I just...” The slew of technobabble immediately washed over Minkowski's head, and she obviously wasn't the only one, Lovelace at least looked like she was trying to follow, but Eiffel's expression immediately glazed. The new guy seemed fascinated though.

“Am I the only one concerned about the weird house gremlin that just sprang from the walls? Did _you_ know anyone else lived here?” Eiffel muttered in her ear.

How do you tell a complete stranger that he's unspeakably rude? “It's a big house, she must have rented another room.”

“Yeah, but he said he's been here for _years_.”

“We haven't even moved in yet, it's not like they need to advertise who does and doesn't live here,” she pointed out. Yeah, it felt a little weird to have been strolling around a house without even knowing that there was someone else hidden in its bowels, but Eiffel seemed very keen on making a way bigger deal out of it than necessary. It wasn't weird, right? Lots of people don't meet their roommates until they all move in after all. Nope, all that stood to be gained from this entire exchange was that Doug Eiffel was going to be a experience in and of himself.

“Huh,” the man was saying as he leaned over the air conditioning unit, looking at whatever Hera was pointing at. “Yes, I see what you mean. Very fascinating, resourceful work-around. Mm, rather sloppy though, won't last long before rapid deterioration.”

“I-I d-didn't say I was making it g-good as new, just that I c-could make it work better than _n-not at all_ ,” said Hera, somewhat sourly.

“ _Oh for Pete's_ –” Lovelace rounded on the man and hissed, “Didn't I tell you not to scare them off right away? Listen to her!”

The man looked affronted. “I have done nothing yet! What, shall I simply stop existing for an hour or two when it conveniences you?”

“Is that an option?”

“Uh,” said Hera. “Hi, yeah, excuse me, but I'm not actually s-scared. It's j-just a stutter, o-okay? It's _t-totally_ normal, so I'd thank you to, y-you know. _Not_ make a big deal out of it.”

“Right, what she said,” added Eiffel, stepping forward to place a supportive hand on his friend's shoulder. “But also, you know, is there a _reason_ we should be scared? Just out of curiosity. I didn't really want to mention it but you really do sound like a Bond villain.”

“Eiffel!” snapped Minkowski.

“Oh come on, you were thinking it!”

“Not every person with Russian accent is nefarious mad scientist!” huffed the man.

“I mean, in this particular case he _is_ , but think of him as the exception, not the rule,” said Lovelace.

“Am not mad, just because _some people_ get squeamish taking 100-level biology–”

“Hey hey hey, I am _not_ squeamish! Just because I don't think a good day involves cutting something open–”

He gestured towards the air conditioner and Hera in frustration. “Is this cutting something open? No! Was simply discussing fascinating subject of electrical engineering. Not scary! Not nefarious! Perhaps something I should spend more time researching, since I have clearly neglected that area of expertise–”

“ _Oh no no no,_ no you don't, nuh-uh, no way,” growled Lovelace. “You are absolutely _not_ allowed to take on _more_ courses! Holy fuck, I actually want to get rid of you at _some point in my lifetime._ ”

“Okay, fine, no one else is going to do it? Then I'm gonna ask – who exactly is this?” said Eiffel. “Because I'm hearing the term 'mad scientist' tossed around a lot here and that is something I kinda would like to know about _before_ committing to a place, personally...”

Lovelace groaned. “Alright, fine, let me introduce you to Elias Selberg, he lives in the attic.”

“I keep telling you, it is _Hilbert_. Alexander _Hilbert_ ,” said... Selberg?

“And _I_ keep telling _you_ that is _not_ what you put on your tenancy agreement.”

“There were... extenuating circumstances...”

“There always are with you.”

Eiffel held up a hand. “Whoa whoa, just backing up there quickly to the living alone in the attic bit – is this more of a room-with-a-view sort of thing or a... Jane-Eyre-I-should-sleep-with-one-eye-open sort of thing?”

“When have _you_ ever read Jane Eyre?” asked Hera.

“Hey! I have untapped depths! ...Besides, there's like a million movie adaptations.”

“The reason I live in the attic? I like it,” said Hilbert simply. “Is out of the way, is quite spacious, and is _quiet_.” He gave them a pointed look that said it had better stay that way, or else.

With a sigh, Lovelace explained, “He just keeps collecting degrees and won't fucking graduate so I'm stuck with him.”

Hilbert shrugged. “There is constantly more to learn, and unlike some I do not wish to limit myself unduly. Besides, it is not as if I am simply moldering away as an undergraduate. Though it is purely in its theoretical, research stage, my thesis is coming along _quite_ nicely. If you happen to take an interest in the possibility of regenerative retro-viruses, I–”

Eiffel leaned in closer to Lovelace and said in a stage whisper, “How much of what he says do we have to understand to be allowed to live here?”

“If you punch him I'll reduce your rent,” Lovelace whispered back.

“Okay, now that _is_ tempting...”

“Actually, not that this all hasn't been... _really interesting_ , but is there any chance we could go back to talking about renting?” asked Minkowski, stepping forward.

Again, Lovelace sighed. “Yes, alright. Not really much we can do to avoid it. Well, you've seen the place. You've seen the _people_. That's it. The place is one disaster away from falling down around our ears, we still don't have enough tenants so that means rents going to be a bit more expensive than anticipated, and I can't make any promises about whether or not Hilbert experiments on you in your sleep. But it's what I've got. You interested?”

Minkowski glanced at Eiffel, who looked between her and Hera. She wasn't sure why all of a sudden she cared what this random guy thought about the offer, but suddenly she had the strange feeling that the three of them were all in this together. It sounded like surviving this housing arrangement might be a three person job.

Of course, the smart thing to do would be walk away, look for a better place which _must_ exist, and not look back.

Eiffel sighed. “Well, it's still way better than the place with the spiders. I'll take mad scientists and malevolent air conditioners over spiders any day.”

Lovelace's expression froze in place.

“You... don't like spiders,” she said.

Eiffel gave a weak laugh. “Uh, yeah, no, not really. Like at all. Does anyone? Anything with that many legs can't be trusted, you keep your eye on two of them, who knows what its doing with the rest are... why are you looking at each other like that?”

Lovelace had shot Hilbert a withering look.

“What?” snapped Hilbert. “Am not asking him to come pet them! In fact, I would _prefer_ that no one come into room _at all_ –”

“Wait wait wait, back up, pet _what_?”

Lovelace shot Hilbert another look that she hoped at the very least conveyed: _cover the damn things up before they look upstairs,_ but ideally read as something more along the lines of: _JUST GET RID OF THOSE THINGS ALREADY THEY ARE HELLISH, YOU NEARLY GAVE HUI A GODDAMN HEART ATTACK WHEN HE WOKE UP WITH ONE OF THEM IN HIS BED, SO HELP ME GOD._

“It's nothing, don't worry about it,” she said through grit teeth.

“That _really_ didn't sound like nothing–”

Hera leaned up next to him though and said in his ear, “Look, this is still b-better than some of the place we've been, and the p-price...”

Eiffel still looked concerned, but he finally said, “Fine, keep the rent down at what it is, and yeah, sure, we're in. Don't really have room to be choosy right now.”

“Alright, I'm in too then,” said Minkowski with a sigh.

Briefly, Lovelace seemed surprised. But she smothered it quickly.

“Great! In that case, we can get contracts drawn up right away, and I'll show you which rooms are available and you can... I don't know, duke it out for them or something. Or bribe me, I'm open to bribes.”

And so it begins, thought Minkowski, following behind Lovelace, Eiffel, Hera, and Hilbert. What, she wasn't entirely sure. She had really just wanted to rent a quiet room in a cheap place a reasonable distance from the school – she wasn't interested in making friends and definitely wasn't interested in drama, she just wanted to attend her classes and have a quiet place to study. Somehow, she had a feeling that was _not_ what she had just signed up for.


End file.
